


So Stop Time Right Here

by arborealstops



Category: The West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:12:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arborealstops/pseuds/arborealstops
Summary: He knew that the president wouldn't call him over nothing.  But he let himself hope, for a moment, that it was just a courtesy call, a quick update before the big night.  For one, brief, shining moment, John let himself believe in a perfect world.





	So Stop Time Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Sad Song by We the Kings. 10/10 recommend.

When Lord John Marbury got the phone call, he was at home. Not at the embassy, though Lord knows that felt more like home than this ridiculous mansion. And it really was ridiculous- 27 bathrooms, 31 bedrooms, a pool, a tennis court… and yet here he was.

Not by choice, no, at least not fully. It was his niece’s wedding, and apparently, his attendance was required, even if the last time he had seen the girl had been at her confirmation. Not that he wasn’t happy for Elizabeth- at least she could marry the man she loved. But John would have much rather been _home_ home, at his apartment at the embassy, watching the elections with Leo on the phone, than here at this wedding with people he hardly knew. 

When his phone rang, John was almost relieved. He’d been aching to get out of this conversation for what seemed like hours. These people were far less entertaining than the guests at a White House dinner party. No matter the snide comments he might make, the Americans’ desire to pick a fight always made for stimulating conversation. 

“Excuse me a moment,” John said to the guests seated around him, “but I must take this.”

Stepping a few feet away from the table at which he’d been seated a moment ago, John flipped open his cell phone. In his slightly inebriated state- and it really was slightly; being in love with a recovering alcoholic had reasonably affected his drinking habits, but even so- he couldn’t fully recognize the phone number, though he knew he should. 

“Hello?”

Perhaps he should have been somewhat less surprised to hear Jed Bartlet’s voice coming over the line. But then again, no matter how friendly they were, it was always a bit of a shock to have the president of the United States calling your cell phone.

“Lord John,” Bartlet began, and John couldn’t help noting how tired he sounded. _Then again,_ he mused, _when_ isn’t _Jed Bartlet tired?_

“The one and only,” Marbury greeted him joyfully. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He meant it, too. Almost nothing could diminish his respect for Jed. He was a good man, and besides that, he was Leo’s best friend, and the first person to know about John and Leo’s relationship. Yes, Jed Bartlet was a friend. 

A low sigh came over the line, and John pressed the phone a little closer to his ear. “Mister President?”

“It’s Leo,” Jed broke in, and John felt his heart skip a beat.

He knew that the president wouldn’t call him over nothing. But he let himself hope, for a moment, that it was just a courtesy call, a quick update before the big night. For one brief, shining moment, John let himself believe it was a perfect world. 

“He’s had a heart attack.”

And then that world was shattered. 

John was, for what was possibly the first time in his adult life, speechless. THe room around him blurred and swirled as he stumbled, finally crashing into a wall. He couldn’t breathe.

“When- when?” He gasped, attempting to brace himself against the wall. His mind was reeling, thoughts filled with memories, hopes, dreams, all being suddenly ripped from him.

He heard a shaky breath over the phone. “A couple of hours ago,” Jed replied. “John-”

“No.” He couldn’t hear him say it. He heard the heaviness of the president’s voice, and he knew what was coming, and he refused to hear it. “No. A few hours ago? Why wasn’t I informed?” His voice had nearly reached shouting level, and John vaguely realized that several guests were staring at him oddly. Forcing a smile that felt too much like a grimace, he waved them away and shakily made his way outside, to a balcony. There, he repeated his inquiry. “Why wasn’t I told?”

“John,” Jed began again, “we didn’t want to worry you. Josh found him passed out in his room. He was rushed to the hospital, where they tried to revive him, but-”

John cut him off with a soft noise in the back of his throat. He refused to hear what he would say, refused to acknowledge it, because he knew what was about to come. Jed wouldn’t have called if everything was alright, so he stopped him.

But before John could say a word, Jed covered him up. “Let me say it, dammit!”

He heard the way the president’s voice broke, and stopped. He realized something- this call wasn’t just for himself. Jed needed it too, needed to hear himself say the words, needed to let the full meaning sink in. So he stayed silent.

“Leo’s dead, John.”

Those words set off a series of feelings and memories so intense, John nearly groaned. As it was, he swayed slightly, and collapsed into a nearby chair. He had expected the words, anticipated the news, but he hadn’t been ready for the flood of emotions that would accompany them. 

He heard Jed’s distant, choked breathing, and knew he should reply, should ask questions, should offer comfort, but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth work. 

His mind swirled with images, both real and imagined, of Leo. The first time they woke up together, Leo’s warm body curled up in his arms. Leo beside him in a tuxedo, looking sharp as ever, their hands occasionally brushing as they talked. Coming out of his bedroom to find Leo sitting at his table, wearing John’s pyjamas and drinking coffee, a newspaper spread out on the table in front of him. Leo at their wedding, Leo complaining about John’s dog, Leo introducing him to Mallory, Leo walking around the grounds at the White House. Leo, Leo, Leo. John was no longer sure which images were memories, and which were dreams. 

“The funeral is in six days,” Jed’s cracked voice broke into John’s thoughts. “Will you- are you-?”

“I’ll be there.” John’s voice was hoarse. “I’ll be there.”

There was silence from the other end of the line. John was about to hang up when three softly spoken words came thorough. 

“He loved you.”

He finally allowed himself to cry.


End file.
